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*it was probably you;
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Blood has always been a thing with Quinn, and it's only evolved into more for him as time went on. He could thrive off of blood alone, and use it to heal. He could do a number of things when it came to blood, and he hasn't even tried to flex those powers in all the ways that he could. It's usually at the back of his mind, and he didn't always have the best of control with it. His impulses ruled so many things. But the hunt is where his mind is at, and once Echidna has dropped down and gone for the deer's neck, it's soon over. The deer was on the ground for only a minute or two before Echidna had circled and was on it, ripping it open. Quinn knew what she would aim for first, and so he tears into the haunches.

It's messy and that's just the way he likes it. When Echidna lifted her head from the kill, Quinn peers over to see what she's left of the innards. She knows the bits that he likes, but he doesn't know if she's left them or not. He hooked his claws in the flesh of the deer's side and yanks it over so he could get a better look. Heart and lungs had been left for him, and he rumbles as he digs them out to devour. He gulps them down fast; instinct more than anything else, because he doubts there would be any creature willing to scuffle them over what's left of the deer right now. When that's done he pries himself away from the carcass and licks blood from his nose and face, an ear curving towards Echidna's words.

Eyes settle upon her and his breath catches at what she's doing. His pupils dilate and he swallows hard; unable to drag his gaze away from the way she's licking and sucking blood from her fingers. He barely registers the fact that he's moving closer to her, drawn in by the splashes of blood on pale skin and the fact that her actions are doing things to his body. When close enough he pounces, but it's mid shift, and he's back to normal when he leans in to lick blood from Echidna's chin and along her jawline. He hadn't even given any of this any thought, it was more the way things used to be, and the way he was wired even now. For the moment he's not thinking much at all about anything but the taste of blood on pale skin.

WORDCOUNT: 429



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